I am going to draw a picture…
A picture with a twist…
I’ll draw it with a razor blade…
I’ll draw it on my wrist…
The crimson liquid seeping from my skin…
It’s soothing in some way…
The pain is gone…
It’s gone away…
Before long there’s a puddle…
Of the crimson…
I know it’s wrong…
I know it’s a sin…
Nobody expected this…
Not even me…
But I had to do it…
To set me free…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There's no shorter way to ease your tension but to hold on to it, to become even stronger, later.Nice work annon.